qaidoneus

[qaidoneus]

Where's the African mythology?

The Kickstarter is live now!

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This is cinema actually

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I thought this was funny, ok?

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Bro to gallop on the ice is crazy

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Looool

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#Happy Labor Day to Shrek I guess

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FUUUUUUCCCKKKKKK

Six weeks after Cas' death, Dean buys a wedding ring.

It's not a conscious decision. He's been on autopilot since Chuck's defeat, going through the motions of living while feeling completely hollow inside. The last thing Cas did was die so Dean could live, so Dean's gonna pretend until it's true, because he can't let Cas have died for nothing.

The enormity of his grief is overbearing and he can't even put into words everything he's lost. How can he explain what they were to each other when they never spoke it out loud, not until Cas' last, awful speech that didn't even allow Dean time to respond?

The silence is swallowing him up, everything he didn't get to say.

And then Dean sees the ring.

It's a battered thing, shining dully in the glass counter at a pawnbroker's just outside of Topeka. It's one of a pair, and Dean snatches both of them, stuffing one far into his pocket and the other on his left hand.

The weight of it settles something in his chest.

People start treating him differently. Well-meaning strangers will start conversations in friendly, cheerful tones, catch a glimpse of his ring and the flatness of his eyes and put two and two together. Their voices will go soft, their whole demeanor shifting to a gentle carefulness. Like Dean has a terminal illness.

Good, Dean thinks. He doesn't want to be pitied but it brings him some type of satisfaction, knowing that the grief gnawing at him from the inside has become visible.

If his love couldn't be acknowledged while Cas was alive, at least it is now.

And later, when Cas finally returns to him, Dean doesn't say a word. He just reaches into his pocket, pulls out the ring still resting there. It's warm, and Cas' breath catches when Dean takes his hand and slides it onto his finger.

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[qaidoneus]

I've fulfilled my obsession.

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Okay wait I love this style actually. Its creepy-ish but in a very good way, would kill to have one in my home

I fucking hate James Tissot’s paintings because in ALL OF THEM there is ALWAYS someone staring right at you, but it’s not always immediately visible. You just feel watched by this mf. Sometimes the little shit is right there at the centre, but others the bastard is just gazing from the distance, it is CREEPY, my guys

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What i think i could have done with that person yesterday is ask them for specific examples of drag being hypersexualized and hyperfeminized.

Because like... neither of those things are actually misogynistic.

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Centaur Watching Fish by Arnold Böcklin (1878).

I love love love Böcklin’s mythical pieces, they have this sense of realism, and often even sensitivity.

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does anyone want to do thisbwith me

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This is literally Crowley an Aziraphale on a Tuesday

this terrible distant blurry shot of two pigeons is one of my favourite photos out of any pic I’ve ever taken I think

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YUUUUHHHHHH CAMPBELL

why did my brain decide to get into a niche fandom no one irl knows

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in order to unlearn racism u have to be willing to accept that u are racist. it’s not a bad thing to want to change for the better. it’s not a bad thing to say hey, the way i’ve been acting is racist and i don’t want to be racist anymore. when people of color are telling u ways in which u have been racist, it’s actually not cool to brush it off and say, well i didn’t mean it that way.. u actually have to make an effort to stop doing those things if u want to be able to actually say ur anti-racist. u can’t just say ur not racist because u don’t wanna be seen as racist. that’s not how unlearning racism works.